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Emmy dropped me off at the house and promised to pick me up at 7 pm. She turned the car in the driveway, hopped in good-bye and drove briskly down the highway, the same road we'd come.

I wondered for a few moments what I would do if Emmy was prevented for any reason and couldn't make it. Or worse, if not only she would let me down but also Mr. Johnson from the Institute, with whom I had an appointment this afternoon at 3 clock. Small, big fears that pops up when you are in a situation in which you never in your whole life, were before.

But there was no help, I had to go through it.

Slowly I walked up the path to the house.

Since around ten minutes the engine stuttered at irregular intervals. Williams stepped on the accelerator pedal, letting the engine roar, hoping that it would only be a temporary blockage of the fuel line or the valves.

Suddenly the car began to shake again. Williams went off the gas and drove the Ford to the side of the road. He got out of the car, opened the bonnet, and stared helplessly into the complicated structure of engine parts and cables. He did not know a lot about car repairs, not to mention that he did not want to get his expensive suit dirty. He got back into the car and turned the starter, but the engine was only gasping asthmatically.

Williams moaned. He was at least ten miles from the nearest town and the road was badly travelled. It could take hours until the next car would go by.

Just a minute ago he had passed a small house off the road. He decided to walk the narrow mile to the house. He would call the breakdown service, so he had a good chance to arrive in Salt Lake City before night.

The heat of the day was still above the land and a hot south wind whirled the dust and dirt of the road into the air. Williams didn't feel the heat, his Ford was equipped with an excellent air conditioner. Now that he had to move outside, he realized, that his clothing was inappropriate for an outdoor adventure. He undid the tie, slipped out of the blazer and put both into the car. Then he locked the door.

After dabbing the sweat from his forehead and neck, he set off.

The midday sun burned into my face as I made my way up to the house. I realized that I was a teenager, I had gone this route the last time. My parents divorced shortly after my fifteenth birthday, and I moved to Salt Lake City together with my mother. Later my mom and I were travelling in Europe and I started to study in Vienna, my mothers native town. I finished my last year of study a few months ago and came back to the United States in spring 1985. In Salt Lake City I was busy for weeks with research at the University and so my teenage years and the many happy hours I spent in this house and on its land had been, like a dream, forgotten. But yesterday, actually exactly 14 hours ago, my mother called me from the hospital, where she was going to undergo surgery to finally get rid of her varicose veins. She told me, that she had pretty bad news. She just received a call from the old Missis Clarke and that I was right now the only one, who could take care of it and I had to do it fast! So I went back to Green River much earlier than I had planned and frankly with a pretty guilty conscience.

I stood in front of the house and its massive front door and was tasked with a mission that exceeded my competencies. At least it felt like that to me.

I wasn't in the mood to open the door. So I walked around the building and discovered a few flowers that had survived the summer without care, despiting the heat and the drought. The garden of the house had always been an eye-catcher. Unfortunately, everything was now wild and overgrown.

Suddenly I got the glorious idea to spend the time, until Mr. Johnson's arrival, with some gardening. That would certainly distract me from my problems. Maybe I even found some garden tools in the basement.